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by fishfingersandjellybabies



Series: Robin Reversal AU [19]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4363061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But Dick lost Damian. Robin lost his Batman.</p><p>Damian Wayne was dead.</p><p>And none of them could even hope to prepare for Dick Grayson’s grief.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> You guys should know better than to ask specifically for angst. Also, does it count for bonus points if Damian’s dead? Set way long time after Dick died and was revived, and if you need a refresher on that whole thing, read Back. Dick struggled with not killing before, after the Court of Owls indoctrination, and has regressed into that mindset. Put this in the Reversal AU because I’ve actually been thinking about this idea for ages.

Tim saw this reaction coming. From the day that little boy put on the bright, stoplight colors. Since the day Damian decided to keep the boy in their fold, as opposed to sending him somewhere he would be safe.

Add in the trauma the pair had already faced. Damian’s own upbringing. Watching first his brother then his father die, along with countless friends. The deaths of Dick’s parents. Being killed, then the Court of Owls’ attempted indoctrination. Even for Tim and his own troubles – that was a lot to go through. One of them was going to snap eventually.

So, yeah. Tim knew this was going to happen. Tried to prepare for it.

But Dick lost Damian. Robin lost his Batman.

Damian Wayne was dead.

And none of them could even hope to prepare for Dick Grayson’s grief.

But that was just the simplest way to put it. Damian hadn’t properly been Batman for over a year, only filling in when Bruce was busy or unable. And Dick hadn’t been Robin since his resurrection, either. Deciding himself too tainted for the role, he’d kept the title the Court had cursed him with. He’d remained the Talon.

And Damian wasn’t just dead. He’d been _butchered_. Murdered by a clone sent by his mother, a scene they all had the misfortune to witness firsthand. To watch, as Damian fought tooth and nail, as Damian was stabbed through, the blade twisted as the monster dropped his lifeless form like he was no more than garbage.

Dick had been closest. Dick had been the one Damian was rescuing.

So add guilt to the overwhelming grief the boy was going through.

Tim sighed as he sped through the city on his bike. He doesn’t know how Bruce didn’t react in time. Maybe he was stuck in his own mourning, maybe he forgot the fact that he had four other children, all of whom were on the edge of ruin before this tragedy occurred.

Maybe he forgot just how close Dick and Damian truly were.

Dick was gone the day after the funeral. His room was as it was, his belongings were all still there. But he was gone. He, and his Talon uniform.

Tim’s comm binged, and Jason’s voice came through. “Any sign?”

“Something at the warehouses.” Cassandra answered. “Could be nothing.”

“Check it anyway. J, I’m sending Batgirl to you.” Stephanie explained. “T, you still with us?”

“Hm.”

The dead bodies began appearing a week later. At first, they all thought the Court was making some sort of resurgence. That they’d sensed the weak state of the Bats, and took the chance to strike. But they ruled out the theory instantly. Because the weapons were too old, and outdated. And some of them were just too… _Batman_.

They realized what was happening when they went to clean out Damian’s bunker, and found their eldest brother’s weapons cache completely empty.

“ _Shit_.” Jason had whispered, before taking the drawer of tools he was holding, and launching it harshly against the nearest wall. “…Son of a _fucking bitch!!_ ”

Jason was wrecked, then. Punching any surface he found, upturning anything that wasn’t nailed down. He even took a sword to the windshield of Damian’s beloved flying Batmobile. Probably in some misplaced sense of bitterness. Because, how _dare_ their eldest leave them like this.

Stephanie could only watch from the elevator, could only double over in her wheelchair and sob, the sounds almost drowned by Jason’s sorrowful destruction. But her tears weren’t just for Damian, just as Jason’s rampage wasn’t either.

It was for the two of them. Because the death of their eldest took their youngest from them too.

There was suddenly a click in his ear. “Tim?”

By the lack of background noise, Tim could tell it was a private line. Just the two of them. The Red Hood and the Oracle. “What?”

“You haven’t said anything all night.” A pause, then: “You’re closest to the warehouses.”

“I know.” An answer to both statements. “I’m heading there.”

“You’ll beat Black Bat by probably twenty minutes.” Steph informed him. “…How are you doing? With all this, I mean. Though in general, too.”

“My adoptive father has lost his mind, my oldest brother is dead and there’s a twelve-year-old out here murdering people in what I can guess is a grief-fueled rage.” Tim didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it was that or emotionless, and Steph deserved better than that. “How do you _think_ I’m doing?”

“He ran before any of us had the chance to see.” Steph said gently. Tim pursed his lips as he turned into an alleyway, a shortcut to the warehouse gates. “Not that that’s an excuse. But there’s already enough blame going around, so don’t add to it by thinking you could have done something for Dick.”

“Perhaps. But I could have tried to do something for Damian.” Tim countered, slowing at a railroad crossing, before speeding across and through a hole in a chain link fence. The warehouses rose up like walls. Like ruins to a better time, when hard work actually _meant_ something in Gotham. “I could have tried to fill his role. I could have tried to protect the kid he loved so… _goddamn_ much.”

“Oh, don’t play words with me.” Stephanie scolded. “That’s the exact same thing.”

Tim grinned, slowing his bike to a crawl, practically walking it among the warehouses. It wouldn’t do any good, if the Talon _was_ here, to spook him with the sound of a motor. “Phrasing makes all the difference, Miss Brown.”

“If Damian were here, he’d scoff and punch you in the face.” Steph laughed, though it was sad and nostalgic. “And this would be one of the times I’d have let him.”

“Yeah, well. He’s not.” Tim sighed. Suddenly he heard a scream, saw a body pushed into his route, where it immediately collapsed to the ground in dead weight, its head rocking at an impossible angle. “And therein lies our problem.”

Steph hummed, and Tim heard her start hitting keys as she agreed to the unspoken request of radio silence. He slowly dismounted his bike, checked his guns to make sure their safeties were off, then approached the obviously dead man now leaning against the wall. He turned towards the direction the body came from, and saw more littered there, like some sort of makeshift breadcrumb trail.

There was more grunting and sounds of fighting, and Tim trotted after it, dodging and leaping over bodies, counting each one as he went. He’d made it to eleven before he reached the scene in progress.

And it was exactly as they’d all feared.

There were maybe four men left, all bleeding already, all shooting at the small child like any of them had a prayer of actually _hitting_ him. And Dick…basically acted exactly like he always did. Flippy and quick, seeming as if gravity was a law he was never taught to obey. Only now, his face was set in a determined frown. Now, he acted lethally, aiming for jugulars and femoral arteries as opposed to knees and elbows. And he was silent. No laughter, no quips. When his mouth opened now, it was in a snarl.

And Tim felt…so disconnected. Because _he_ killed, _he_ murdered. He even went as far as to _justify_ it. But the scene in front of him was _wrong_. The killings in front of him were wrong, and all he wanted to do was _stop_ it. Because this was a child. This was his little brother. This was…

This was everything Damian fought to prevent.

Because that was where all the teasing and the jokes came from. Because they say when you become a parent, your whole world changes. Your morals change, your goals change. And for as long as Tim knew him, Damian was always _vicious_. Was always the one who caused the most damage. Hell, how many fights did he and Bruce get in over crossing _that_ line? How many times did Damian almost do it, or lament not going that far? How many times did Tim watch as Damian struggled to argue against Tim’s own reasoning?

And then Dick came into his life. And then he was raising that child, and suddenly – the viciousness was gone. Suddenly he was much more strategist than fighter. Much more teacher than doer. Because he saw the same path for Dick and he didn’t want that. He didn’t want Dick to be as dark and messed up as himself. He wanted Dick to have a _chance_.

Everyone laughed and poked fun, saying it was like Dick was Damian’s son. And Damian would blush and deny. Scoff and role his eyes.

But standing here, now. Tim saw the truth. It was never a joke to that little boy.

And here he was, trying to survive without his father. Trying to deal with the anger Damian never wanted him to have.

Trying to get revenge for his loss.

Tim didn’t think when he saw the knife in Dick’s hand, when he aimed to throw it straight at the gunman’s forehead. He pulled his own gun, shooting at the small blade. Dick gasped and dropped it, turning his furious gaze towards the Red Hood.

All the shooters paused and looked too, and Tim wasted time by slowly pulling off his helmet. “I’ll give you gentlemen five seconds to vacate the area, or I’ll be forced to put you down myself.”

The men – who all clearly recognized Tim for who he was – hesitated for just one of those seconds, before laying their guns down and taking off across the alleyway of their fallen comrades. But Tim didn’t pay them any mind. He frankly didn’t truly care about their well-being. All he cared about was the boy in the corner with his hands balled into bloody fists and the quivering pout.

“I’ve got Batgirl, Red Robin and Black Bat at the perimeter.” Steph whispered. “If he tries to run, he’s got nowhere to go.”

“Dick.” Tim said instead. Dick looked away, towards the ground.

“Don’t bother.” Dick spat. And he sounded so broken. So shattered, Tim could only sigh. “I don’t want to hear your…your stupid _speeches_ or…or your _demands_. I know you’re disappointed in me, but I’m doing _fine_ by myself. I’m _not_ coming home.”

“Well, the fact that you still call it _home_ means you’re not, but humor me.” Tim shrugged, shuffling subtly forward. “Why not?”

“Why do you think?!” Dick screamed, ripping the goggles from his face as he jerked up towards Tim. There were already tears in his eyes, already starting to drip down his dirty face. “Because _he’s_ not there!”

Well, _duh_.

“B-because Damian’s not there and it’s all _my_ fault!” Dick was still shrieking, and it was so sad. The boy still had so much pain, and his attempts to deal with it just left him even more splintered. Even now, all these months later. Even now, so short into their confrontation, Tim could see the child cracking more. Pieces of his soul just falling off of him like dead leaves in autumn, as he crumbled to the ground. As he covered his face and curled into his knees. Tim watched as the clawed gloves shifted upwards, as Dick pulled at his own hair, and blood appeared on his scalp from the scratches he was creating. “It’s my fault…”

“Grab him.” Jason demanded. “Grab him and knock him out, Hood.”

Tim ignored him, instead choosing to walk cautiously forward. Dick didn’t make a move to run. Just sat there, looking like a toddler who had just scraped his knee on the playground. Tim crouched in front of him, looming slightly as he rested his elbows on his knees.

“We all say that, you know.” Tim hummed, not looking at the child in front of him, but at the bloody concrete nearby. Dick immediately flinched, his sobs hitched. Tim knew what Dick thought he meant, but didn’t waste time trying to change it. He’d understand in a second. “That it’s _all_ of our faults. That there was something we could have done. _Should_ have done, and maybe Damian might still be here. Even Steph, if you can believe it.”

“I miss him.” Dick blurted out as he released a breath. “I miss him _so much_ , and…and it’s not getting any _easier_. With my parents, it got easier, after a while. But this…every day it gets _worse_.”

“I know.”

“And I…sometimes it’s just _so hard to breathe_.” Dick listed off, muffled behind his hands. “I…sometimes I have panic attacks and think I’m going to _suffocate_.”

  
 _“Hood_.” Jason hissed again. He sounded desperate. “ _Grab. Him_.”

“Sometimes, I…sometimes I even hope I _will_.”

“Yeah.” Tim faintly thought back to the time Bruce was dead, or when they thought he was. About his own breakdowns back then. “Yeah, I get that.”

Suddenly Dick peeked up through his fingers. Up close, Tim could see how bloodshot his eyes were, how tired and sickly he looked. He wondered where the kid had been staying, if not at Wayne Tower. What he’d been eating.

“I do this for him. Do you get _that_?” Dick asked weakly, yet harshly. Angrily. “He…he always said that all he wanted was a Gotham where we didn’t have to do _this_. Where I could be a normal child and be safe.”

“So you’re doing that. By killing them at the source.” Tim surmised. That was his moral standing on the subject too. But he was an adult. And…and the whole thing just looked wrong on this child. Damian would be rolling in his grave, if he knew this was where his protégé ended up, all because he’d up and died.

“I want to finish that mission. For him.” Dick almost sounded like he was pleading, as the tears streamed down his face. Like he was trying to get Tim to agree with him.

God, this whole thing was so _fucked up_.

“I…I didn’t mean to. The first time.” Dick admitted quietly. “It was…it was right after. I was angry and…and I didn’t know where I was and this creep was trying to push me into a car.”

Tim remembered the body. Remembered the file. Former high school teacher. Known pedophile. Suspected serial killer.

“But then, I just…” Dick buried his face back into his knees. “When I attack these people, I…I just see that _monster_. I just see Damian getting stabbed through. Again, and again, and _again_.” Dick was suddenly trembling. “And I just try to do anything I can to save him.”

That was a lie, and Tim knew it. It might have been the truth at one point, and maybe for a while, but not now. There was no way Dick was killing these people because he was having flashbacks. The anger in his body was too real to be just a memory.

The kid was furious, and probably, on some level, blamed the criminals he was slaughtering for the demise of his partner.

Dick hiccupped, shifted his arms to hug his knees, digging those claws into the meat of his calves. “You don’t understand, Tim. You don’t _understand_. I miss him _so much_. And I…I don’t know what I’m _doing_ without him.”

Now _that_ , Tim did believe.

“Okay.” Tim nodded. “Have you said your peace?”

Dick paused, then nodded, just once.

“Can I say mine?”

Dick didn’t respond.

Tim inhaled, as he twisted on his ankle, plopping down next to the Talon.

“I miss him, too.” Tim started. “More than I really thought I would. All those times I threatened to kill him? It was never a real threat, no matter how much I believed it at the time.”

Dick still wouldn’t look up at him.

“And…well, you and I are on the same page. Because I want to go out there, and beat the living hell into this city for what they did to him. For what they took from _us_. It would be so easy to do that, and to do it in his name.”

That earned a peek around a ripped sleeve.

“But that’s me. And I’m the family screw up, so it’s allowed.” Tim gave a brief smile. Dick didn’t reciprocate it. “But _you_. That’s a different story.”

“How?” Dick demanded. “We both loved him, how are we _different_?!”

“We both loved him, and he loved both of us. Mostly.” Tim added as an afterthought. “But you were his partner, Dick. You were his to care for and his to protect. If he could see what you were doing right now, he would be completely heartbroken.”

“But…” Dick’s gaze shifted to the ground. “I _miss_ him. I’m doing this _for_ him.”

“And you know if he was here, he would apologize for leaving you in the first place.” Tim nodded. “But you said it yourself. His mission was to make Gotham better. His mission was to keep you safe.” He paused, then, to let that sink in. “Do you think what you’re doing is very safe? Out here…out here killing people and living, what, in dumpsters?”

“But…”

“He would be so disappointed.” Tim said. “In _himself_ , that this is how you ended up after his tutelage.”

“No!” Dick screeched. “No, he did _nothing_ wrong!”

“Then prove it, Dick.” Tim explained gently. “Come home, and use all those methods of meditation he taught you. Use all those skills he taught you after we got you back from The Court. Come home, and live the life he _wanted_ you to have.”

“But…for him, I want to…”

“Come home,” Tim repeated. “And be _safe_.” And Tim watched as the tears welled up in the child’s eyes again. As they spilled over like waterfalls, and Dick’s sobs started anew. “It’s the only thing he ever wanted, for you.”

“But…but Bruce won’t…Because I-I…” Dick ducked back against his knees. “I can’t go back to that house. I can’t go…because he’s _not there_ and it won’t…that house will be…” He drifted off for a second, and Tim let him. When he spoke again, it was almost too quiet to be a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Damian.”

He could be apologizing for a lot of things. He was probably apologizing for everything.

“We don’t have to go back to the house if you don’t want. You can stay with me, or Steph, or even Jason and the Titans. I heard they renovated the tower recently. Supposed to be nice.” Tim nodded. He suddenly heard the tinny sounds of footsteps on a roof. “You can go back to the house when you’re ready. No problem.”

“Is the…is the tombstone nice?”

It was a random question, but really, this whole conversation had followed a very windy barely-there trail already, so. What was one more thing? “It leaves a bit to be desired, if I’m honest.”

“Oh.” Dick breathed. He tilted his head, and Tim could tell he could hear those roof-steps too. “Bruce was right, you know.”

“About?”

“The whole ‘crossing the line’ thing.” Dick admitted. “I…I don’t know how I’m going to stop, now. I had trouble before, when he was _alive,_ when he was helping me recover from the Court. You know that.”

And now with his rage, there was nothing holding him back.

“We’ll work on it.” Tim promised, rolling his arm to put a hand on his back. It was boney, and Tim could feel the rungs of his spine. “Don’t worry.”

He felt Dick gulp under his hand. “…I’m sorry, Tim.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Tim sighed. The footsteps were right above them, now. “Not, at least, until you mean it.”

“…No.” Dick sighed, a little bitter, a lot heartbreaking. “I’m sorry you found me.”

_I’m sorry you had to see me like this. I’m sorry you found me before I succeeded in getting myself killed…again._

Tim opened his mouth to respond, but didn’t get a chance to, before the whoosh of a cape sounded overhead, followed by a shape flipping across the sky and landing in front of them.

“You little _snot_.” Jason hissed. Dick just sniffed, staring blankly upwards as Jason stomped towards them.

“Jay-”

“And _you_.” Jason spat as he dropped to his knees and looked at Tim. “When I say grab him, I mean: _fucking grab him_.”

“We wanted to chat.” Tim shrugged.

Jason regarded him for a second before turning back to Dick, taking hold of his face. He was tender, though, opposite of his biting words, and wiped his thumbs through the tears.

“God, you are in so much trouble.” There was no anger in the accusation, and any that was, was quickly dissipating, as his shoulders were slumped in defeat and relief. “This family is already broken enough. What did you think you were doing, running off like that? Why did you think being by yourself was the best option at the time? Why didn’t you let us _help_ you, instead of…instead of doing _this_?”

“I’m sorry, Jay.” Dick whispered, and this time, he actually sounded sincere. “I didn’t mean…I didn’t…I just…I’m _sorry_.”

“Yeah, well.” Jason sighed, suddenly pulling Dick forward into a tight embrace, burying his nose in the dirty hair. “ _Jesus_ , you’re an idiot, kid.”

“…Damian said that all the time, too.” Dick whimpered. Even from behind his mask, Tim could see Jason closing his eyes in silent mourning. Jason didn’t respond to the statement, though. Didn’t respond to any of the emotions he currently had welling up inside himself. He didn’t even respond to the slew of dead bodies around them. Instead he just leaned back on his knees, gathered Dick further into his arms and stood.

For Dick’s part, he didn’t fight it. Just wrapped his arms tightly around Jason’s neck, legs crushingly around his waist. Tim wondered if he would have fought back then, if one of them had grabbed him after the funeral, before he had a chance to run.

Because that was one thing Dick wasn’t lying about. Time was _not_ healing his wounds, and he was drowning in his sadness. Even Tim had gotten over his fury of not being avenged, or at least learned to cope with it well enough.

 _Gotham safe, that’s the mission._ Tim could faintly hear Damian’s old words. _Gotham safe enough for Grayson and the rest to be happy._

“I can trust that…” Jason mumbled, glancing around. “…you’ll get this cleaned up?”

Tim grinned, remained on the ground even as Jason turned away. “Yeah. I’ll take care of it.”

He could see Dick’s face again now. See his eyes drooped in exhaustion, his fierce grip on Jason’s shoulders. It was clear that through it all, Dick had missed his family, had missed their presence and their love. It was also clear that their kid was damaged, and repairing him was barely a viable idea.

“Good. Now come on, Dickiebird. Let’s go home.” Jason cooed, cupping the back of Dick’s head as he walked away. “Or…at least somewhere with a bathtub because, _shit_ , kid. You stink.”

“I’m sorry, Jay.” Dick repeated, sleepily. “I didn’t mean to hurt y-”

“Apologize again, and it’s going to be a cold bath.” Jason huffed fondly, as they turned the corner.

Despite their rocky start, Tim couldn’t help but be proud of Jason right now. After all, out of all of them, he seemed to have handled his grief the best, outside of the breakdown in the bunker a few weeks prior. He knew there was a lot Jason wanted to say to their youngest. Probably wanted to hit him, shake him, swear him out. But instead…instead he did exactly what Damian would of done. He sighed, bit his tongue, gathered the baby into his arms and set off to take care of him.

Tim smiled as he leaned back against the warehouse wall, staring up at the smoggy sky. He was happy they had found Dick. Devastated that this was what he’d become. Still anguished by the mourning it seemed none of them were ever going to be finished with.

Their family was ruined, and all because that good-for-nothing man had to go off and be a _hero_.

“Look what you did, Damian.” He whispered to the unseen stars. “Look what you did.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Other Robin Reversal AU stories](http://fishfingersandjellybabies.tumblr.com/tagged/robin-reversal-au)   
> 


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